


easy to find

by tarkus



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-08-11 20:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20159335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarkus/pseuds/tarkus
Summary: the one where Wonshik meets a stranger in the train back home, and then his life (his world) changes completely.alternatively: Kim Wonshik and the struggles of adult life in the 21st century;





	1. baby we’ll be fine

**Author's Note:**

> hello loves! here I'm again with yet another wontaek fic.
> 
> it's my birthday today, so I decided to gift you all a little piece of this thing I've been working on... I hope you like it!   
(even if it's kinda sad)
> 
> (and sorry if it's a little bit messy)

The train shakes a little, as is the usual, signaling that it will soon go underground and cross the river that divides the city. For Wonshik, that’s the worst part of the whole ride – not the crowded wagons, not the lack of cleanliness – but the pressure ringing in his ears, making him almost deaf even if he’s wearing his big headphones and blasting music on the highest volume.

Wonshik is not one to care for the well-being of his ears, and that’s okay.

Actually, Wonshik is not one to care for his general health, not because he’s a rebel or anything like that, it’s just… it’s hard to find time to care when your mind is already filled with so many things.

That’s okay too, or, at least that’s what he tells himself all the time.

Wonshik will be fine.

The train stops, and a mass of people wearing black and grey comes in.

The usual, the routine.

The metal doors close, the electronic voice of god-knows-who says the name of the next station and that’s it. Only more five stops to go.

And he’s already feeling tired.

He looks around, trying to find something entertaining to look at.

When living in a city this big, there’s always something or someone that sticks out. As if people were trying desperately to find identity amidst the sea of normalcy. Wonshik himself does that, when he’s not coming and going from work, he tries to wear colorful clothes and show off his tattoos.

An identity.

Unfortunately, this time around there’s no one worth looking at. It’s probably the hour.

The cool kids are never awake at 7 am on a Monday.

Still, he’s there, in the middle of businessman and old ladies.

The fourth stop approaches and Wonshik gets up, too fidgety to stay sitting. He looks out at the windows and only sees black and his reflection. He looks tired.

The black circles around his eyes, the greasy hair and the stubble on his chin are an indication that he should start taking better care of himself.

But… time.

The metal doors open again, and more people come in, making the wagon get cramped. Wonshik is pushed to the side, to the far end. He doesn’t care.

Three stops to go.

Taking a deep breath, he starts counting in his head.

How many minutes until he arrives at midtown and hurries to that forsaken corporate building? Probably just ten.

It does feel like an eternity, though.

The train shakes again, and because he’s distracted counting, he almost trips on a person, someone, a man.

“Sorry,” Wonshik mutters, looking at the sides to see if anyone other than the man saw himself being a fool.

The man in question blinks at him, a piercing gaze, lips closed.

The big city is not made for niceties.

He straights himself and starts counting again.

It will probably take only eight minutes now.

Yeah. Just eight minutes and he will get out from this hell.

Only to enter another.

◈

Work is work, and Wonshik will be fine.

He can’t say it’s easy, because it never is. After doing the same thing for years now, one could say it would get better. But it never did, never does. Problems always arise, and new features, new things to learn. It’s never the same, and Wonshik has to learn and relearn the same thing over and over again only to stay relevant.

He never wanted this.

But now there’s no turning back.

His day at work is filled with coffee mugs, takeout food, angry calls from clients and a meeting or two with the team.

A busy day, a typical day.

When Wonshik steps out, feeling kind of dizzy for staring at the computer screen for so long, night had already settled in. The streets look unusually quiet – but not much, not in a city this big – and he can almost pretend he lives in a civilized place and that he can arrive at his crumpled old apartment soon.

Reality is different, though. And because it’s far away into the night, the commute will probably take half an hour or more. He just wants to sleep in the sidewalk. But he can’t, so he keeps walking forward.

To the station and to the train and –

He’s sitting already, looking at the void that reflects from the dirty window of the wagon.

He blinks, not remembering exactly how he got there.

There’s only him and another man, sitting right across Wonshik.

At least it is quiet.

Trying not to lose his mind again, Wonshik decides to focus on the man in front of him. The suit indicates a businessman, probably, one of those guys who kill each other for money. There’s a ton of them these days, now with the economy going downhill and whatnot.

Wonshik chuckles to himself and the man looks up from whatever was that he was looking on his lap.

They stare at each other.

The train stops, the doors open, only six stops to go.

The metal doors close, the man keeps looking at Wonshik.

And they are not close, not so much, but Wonshik can see some things, some details. A red tie, one of those kinds you buy in those expensive shops, cold eyes, typical from men that work in big corporations, black hair… almost too long to be accepted in said big corporations.

Maybe Wonshik is staring too much.

“Hey,” the man says, not loud but not low either.

His voice is soft.

“Hey,” Wonshik says it back.

Maybe the man is just a hallucination. No one talks to strangers during train rides, that’s like, rule number one of living in big cities. Wonshik knows. He wrote the rules himself.

“Why are you staring?”

Or maybe not.

“Uh, sorry man,” Wonshik tries. “Just… a busy day you know? I’m tired.”

And here’s the thing: you don’t merely start to vent out to strangers in dirty old wagons at the ungodly hours of the night like that, you simply don’t.

But Wonshik is tired.

That’s obviously not an excuse.

“Oh,” the man replies, cracking a small smile. “I understand. Mondays always suck.”

“Tell me about it.”

Wonshik grins a little, and he’s just so tired… The doors of the train open and close, open and close. Several times. The man keeps looking from time to time, but it doesn’t feel invasive, not much anyway.

And then, one stop to go, the man gets up and waves at Wonshik.

“Take care.”

“I will be fine,” Wonshik answers.

But the doors are closing, and the train is already on its curse. The man is long gone.

He will be fine.

◈

The days mingle together in one single event: work, sleep, and then work again. It’s always like this. Wonshik barely sees the sun during weekdays, but he knows winter is approaching soon by the way it’s already dark when he steps out the office to buy some food and it’s only 5 pm. He can also see it in the way people dress more warmly. Coats and scarfs, all colored in dull. practical colors.

Even Wonshik himself dresses like this nowadays.

He ought to shop soon if he has energy and time during the weekend. But he knows he will not. He never has.

So, he keeps wearing the same worn-out black coat.

It’s alright.

The routine, the stressful work.

It’s all fine.

Wonshik doesn’t feel anything anymore, he just goes.

To where?

He doesn’t dare to ask that question.

◈

It probably takes two weeks, or something like that, for Wonshik to see himself in that fateful late-night train ride to home again.

The man is there as well. The same man, with the same black hair and the same businessman’s clothes. The tie is different this time. It’s a mustard thing, dull and ugly.

It takes a total of one stop for the man to notice Wonshik, and as a general rule, you don’t speak to strangers on the train. Hell, you don’t even talk to acquaintances at hours like this. But.

“You’re here again.”

Wonshik doesn’t know much about rules, even if he wrote them himself.

The man looks up, he carries a stack of files on his lap, probably important stuff. He looks dead tired, his long hair is greasy, and his eyes look sleepy, hazy.

“Hello stranger,” the man replies, a hint of amusement in his tired, but sweet voice. “Do you enjoy talking to people on trains?”

Wonshik looks at the dirty ground. There’s a stain of something right in the far corner, making him grimace.

“No, not really.”

The man gets up, and Wonshik observes how tall he is, how his legs go on and on.

The man is kind of pretty.

He sits beside Wonshik.

There’s a fraction of a second where Wonshik recoils, not used to contact from strangers. But then he breathes again.

“Long day?” He asks, pointing at the files.

“Yeah, the usual. What about you?”

Wonshik doesn’t know how to answer. He could go on with a detailed description of how he’s so fucking tired and how frustrated he’s feeling because the money barely pays his rent and still he’s been working to the bone, or, he could go by the safest route.

“Just… normal.”

He sees by the reflection on the other side of the wagon the man raising his eyebrows. The man is gorgeous, and it’s been such a long time since Wonshik noticed those things. His hands shake a little.

“It’s Friday night, shouldn’t you be out drinking or something?”

Wonshik moves, now staring at the man’s side profile.

“With whom? You sound like an old man saying that.”

And it shouldn’t be this easy. This. The talking stuff.

The train stops, the mechanical voice of the train speaking something really loud out from the speakers.

When the door closes again, the man turns, staring at Wonshik.

“Do you want to?”

“What?”

“Go out and have a drink.”

The train shakes, and Wonshik almost touches the man’s hands. He doesn’t understand what’s going on and his mind is just so…

“With you?”

The man cracks a smile, his eyes form little wrinkles at the corners. It’s endearing.

“If you want.”

This is not something that happens, not at all. Invites from strangers on a train is just… not something that happens. That’s probably rule #65 on Wonshik’s book.

And still…

He looks at the time on his cellphone, the bright screen tells him it’s half-past ten.

Wonshik is not old, not yet anyway, but the hour is late for him already.

He wants to say no and yes at the same time.

Because… it’s been a while since he had a drink with someone, it’s been ages since he stepped out of his routine.

And what if the man is a stranger? It’s not like he’s a serial killer or something of the sorts. He doesn’t seem to be.

Wonshik makes a new rule.

“What’s your name?”

The man nods, smiling.

“Jung,” he says. “Jung Taekwoon.”

“Where do you wanna go, Taekwoon?”

In his mind, Wonshik writes down: ‘_never ever talk to strangers on the train, unless they’re good looking and offer you a drink and you’re feeling like it, or you’re so out of your mind you don’t care anymore about what’s safe or what’s not._’

Wonshik will be fine.

He smiles back at the man and gets up.

And, right at the next stop, they step out of the train.

◈

Wonshik doesn’t know how exactly he got here, inside Taekwoon’s apartment, looking at the other opening a bottle of red wine. Something to do with Taekwoon needing to drop his files somewhere and then… oh well.

It’s awkward. A whole awkward situation where Wonshik doesn’t know how to act.

Taekwoon lives in one of those old buildings where you must take stairs and where the doors are heavy and colored in a faint red. It’s odd. But his apartment is lovely if not a little bit empty. A kitchen with few house supplies, a living room with no tv whatsoever, only a bookcase filled with CDs and vinyl’s, and a beige sofa. Wonshik thinks that’s not an apartment that a wealthy businessman would have, but then again, he wouldn’t know.

Suppressing a yawn, he takes the glass of wine that’s given to him and takes a sip. It’s strong and not what he’s used to, so he settles the glass on the nearby table and waits for Taekwoon to sit too.

The other man is fumbling with his phone until some music starts playing from somewhere.

It’s a calming jazz tune, one that Wonshik had heard a long time ago when music was somewhat a hobby. It makes him smile.

But the silence in between is still overbearing, so much so that Wonshik sees himself forced to move around the sofa, being face to face with the other man.

“Do you often bring strangers from public transportation to your house?”

It’s the first thing he lets out. But who could blame him? He’s curious.

Taekwoon chuckles.

“No, not really.”

He sips his wine, staring intently at Wonshik, the liquid tinting his lips a deep red. It’s distracting.

“So?”

“What’s your name? You never told me.”

Wonshik stops, reaches for his glass again and stares at the windows of Taekwoon’s apartment.

“Kim Wonshik.” And then: “Are you going to, you know, murder me or something?”

That makes Taekwoon laugh, open and carefree.

He has a lovely voice, a pleasant laugh.

“No! You just seemed lonely. You always do.”

Wonshik grimaces.

“What do you mean by always? Are you a stalker?”

“Of course not, we just happen to take the same train, same wagon at the same late hours.”

Oh.

“That’s kinda stalker-ish, you know.”

Taekwoon chuckles some more, “Sorry.”

It still feels awkward, so Wonshik moves some more. The wine starts settling nicely in his body, making his mind slow down.

“Why don’t you have a tv in here?”

“I don’t like that kind of stuff, and also. Time, you know?”

Wonshik looks at the empty walls.

“Yeah, time. Why are you always busy?”

“Well, work?”

“What do you do? You seem to work in like, fancy things. Are you a fancy businessman, Taekwoon?”

It surely is the wine that makes Wonshik talk like that, of course.

And it’s probably the wine that makes Taekwoon change his position and stare at Wonshik, inches close to his face. By the distance, Wonshik notices his tiny mole under his eye.

“I’m not fancy. There’s nothing fancy about working twelve hours every day, even if it pays the bills,” Taekwoon says, a hint of anger in his voice.

Wonshik is unfazed by it.

“That’s harsh, man.”

“Well.” Taekwoon looks at the other corner of the room. “Sorry, Wonshik, I’m a lawyer. It’s just frustrating sometimes. And definitely not fancy.”

He wants to touch the other man in some way, probably in hopes to comfort. But Wonshik doesn’t know if that’s something appropriate, especially considering they barely knew each other, so he just refrains and sips some more of the wine.

“Do you hate it?”

Taekwoon looks at him again. It’s the wine and the dim lights – surely – that make him look handsome.

“What?”

“This law thing, do you hate it?” Wonshik asks again. In the corner of his eye, he spots a clock. It’s almost midnight already.

Taekwoon sees that Wonshik is staring at the clock and sighs. Strangely enough, he leans his head on Wonshik’s shoulder.

It doesn’t feel as awkward as Wonshik would imagine, so it’s okay.

“I don’t hate it,” Taekwoon starts. “It’s just different from what I had imagined.” A pause, and then: “What about you, though?”

“Me?” Wonshik feels the weight of Taekwoon’s head, and he tries to stay as still as possible. “I’m just an IT guy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Codes and shit. It’s probably even less fun than what you do.”

That makes Taekwoon laugh, and Wonshik can feel it through his body. He laughs as well.

“Do you hate it?”

And that’s a question Wonshik never dared to make or think, so he just… waves it off.

“I don’t know.”

Taekwoon moves closer, and it’s way too much contact for Wonshik. But what can he do?

He can only stay there, unmoving, feeling the rise and fall of Taekwoon – this stranger – breathing.

Wonshik is hallucinating.

But the jazz is still playing, and the taste of the wine is still in his mouth.

“It’s okay,” Taekwoon whispers. “You’ll be fine.”

◈

Wonshik’s life doesn’t change after that night at Taekwoon’s apartment. In fact, it just stays the same.

With only one addition.

They don’t agree to meet again, but they do exchange numbers, and whenever it’s Friday or any other day of the week, and one of them is taking the late train, they text each other to see if their paths will cross. More often than not, they do. And so, they hang out at Taekwoon’s apartment.

It shouldn’t be this easy. To bond, to talk to others. But with Taekwoon it certainly is. And Wonshik thinks it is best to not dwell much about the unknown reasons for this blooming friendship – if he could call this thing with Taekwoon friendship at all.

They mostly just drink wine and vent their frustrations out. Cheaper than therapy, with the added bonus of alcohol.

Taekwoon is an odd man, Wonshik learns. His hands shake all the time, and he smokes mint cigarettes, he’s either babbling about agreements and meetings or not talking at all. He’s also a very touchy, timid person. Ducking his head when he laughs too loud, touching Wonshik’s arm, leaning on Wonshik’s shoulder… It’s odd, but Wonshik doesn’t have the heart to care. Not when he is also a very strange man.

They fit quite nicely, probably.

It's in one of those evenings spent together that Wonshik talks about something he never dared say out loud.

It starts with Taekwoon humming a song, while splayed on his beige couch, his legs on top of Wonshik’s lap.

Taekwoon has a sweet voice, and Wonshik says it out loud.

And that’s how it starts.

“I used to want to be a singer,” Taekwoon says, softly, like he always does.

“What happened?” Wonshik asks, even if it’s not his place to ask those kinds of things.

“Life, you know? My family was never wealthy, I needed to pursue something that would give me money. I always wanted to be a lawyer, too. Thought I would defend the right people, do the right thing. Become a hero. I don’t know. I was young.”

“Oh.”

Wonshik thinks that’s kind of sad, but he will certainly not voice that out loud; instead, he only looks at the window and takes another sip of the red wine he’s now used to.

“I always loved music.”

Taekwoon gets up at that, going to the kitchen and fetching the ashtray. By now Wonshik knows Taekwoon smokes out of nervousness.

A flick of the lighter, the rise of smoke. Wonshik decides to keep going.

“I had a dream – a foolish one – to be a musician of sorts, maybe play in a band, be a producer. I don’t know. I never followed through with it. My parents never let me.”

A hand on his shoulder, Wonshik sighs.

“It was one thing to keep it as a hobby, the other was to try and make some money out of it. I was never rebellious enough to say no to my family. So here I am.”

Taekwoon shakes his head, dropping the cigarette in the ashtray and taking Wonshik’s glass in his hands, sipping from it.

“Working with tech.”

“Yeah,” Wonshik trails off, watching as Taekwoon downs all his wine. “Father thought it would be the career of the century. He wasn’t wrong. The problem is that nowadays there are just too many people in the field. If you’re not exceptionally brilliant… you’re just…”

A clink of glass on the wooden table, the shift of the weight on the sofa. Taekwoon comes closer.

“Just normal,” Taekwoon says, his eyes boring holes into Wonshik’s soul.

“That. Yes.”

Wonshik feels something burning inside, a feeling, he wants to escape the room and never look at Taekwoon again. But.

“Well, I think you’re quite amazing, Wonshik.”

Taekwoon moves to grab his cigarette again, turning his back to Wonshik. Maybe it’s out of shyness, or perhaps he has no reason at all. But this time Wonshik is the one to touch Taekwoon.

He feels things, and he doesn’t want to, but he can’t stop now, can he?

“What do you mean by that?”

Taekwoon scoffs a little and turns his head just slightly, just enough so Wonshik can see his small smile, his pretty eyes forming tiny crescents.

“Just what you heard. Don’t belittle your own battles okay?”

“I – ”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”

◈

Wonshik tries to forget Taekwoon’s words. And he does an excellent job at that.

Work is work, and it tires him out to the point he doesn’t see the weeks flying by, the change on the streets, the way people seem to rush more and more.

It’s only when his boss is calling him to his office to ask Wonshik if he can work during the holidays that it dawns upon him.

It’s already winter, Christmas is just around the corner.

Wonshik says yes, of course. He doesn’t want to go back to his small city or to his family. He prefers to drown himself in numbers and problems, so he doesn’t need to think about his own issues.

His boss says he will get a raise first thing next year and Wonshik just nods. He knows he won’t. Company policy or something.

He’s fine.

He’s totally fine when he sees all his coworkers talking about their vacations and whatnots, and when everyone leaves the floor and he’s the only one there, with the computer screen on and typing meaningless stuff.

Work is work, and maybe he overdid himself because the next time he takes notice, his phone is ringing.

He picks up, looking at the time on his computer.

“Wonshik?”

It’s ten in the evening, on the 24th of December. Something’s not right.

“Taekwoon, hey, how are you?”

“Are you working?”

Wonshik looks at his sides, at the empty tables and at the darkness of the corridors.

“Yeah.”

“It’s Christmas eve.”

“I know.”

“Come here.”

Wonshik blinks, feeling his eyes sting. The code line he had been writing blurring into the screen.

“Where?”

“My apartment. I finally bought some fancy wine, I think you would like to try.”

Wine seems like an excellent idea, but he’s just so… tired.

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you be celebrating this Christmas thing or whatever?”

“I should, but I’m waiting for you.”

A pause.

He has been neglecting Taekwoon since that day where he confessed his passion for music, but now it seems like he was a fool. Taekwoon is a good man, albeit strange.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally answers. “But I will take probably half an hour to arrive.”

“That’s perfect.”

The line goes silent and Wonshik groans, staring at the screen again.

Nothing good will come out of this anyway, so he only packs his things and gets up.

He can’t let Taekwoon wait now.

They don’t celebrate Christmas per se, but when Wonshik arrives, Taekwoon is wearing one of those Santa Claus hats, and he looks tipsy already.

It’s a fun business, with Taekwoon handling him a whole bottle of French wine that does look fancy and telling him that’s his Christmas gift. With Wonshik holding Taekwoon by the waist and whispering _thank you_.

With them listening to music and talking about past holidays.

It’s fun to be around Taekwoon, and Wonshik doesn’t question why he’s alone on Christmas eve. Taekwoon does the same.

Maybe they’re more alike than what they let out.

But Wonshik is just so… tired.

That night, he ends up sleeping on Taekwoon’s beige couch – insistence of Taekwoon himself. Oddly enough, it’s the first night he has a dreamless sleep.

It’s perfect.

◈

The new year begins, and Wonshik does receive a raise.

If he were a little bit of a believer, he would say it was a sign that his life was changing for the better.

Unfortunately, he’s not that naïve.

It actually doesn’t change at all, and everything keeps being the same. Only colder, since it’s winter.

And, of course, there’s Taekwoon too.

It’s a friendship now. Wonshik decides that’s what they have. Taekwoon is somewhat his friend, and by being his friend, Wonshik now feels like he ought to know more things about the other man.

Like, what his favorite color is, or what is his favorite dish.

In reality, Wonshik doesn’t know either of those things, but he does know Taekwoon has some problems.

His hands shake all the time, and Wonshik knows it’s not because of the freezing temperature.

So, when Taekwoon calls Wonshik at seven in the morning, he knows something’s up.

Wonshik just left the shower and is staring at his face in the small mirror of his bathroom, his face looks at him with tired eyes. He’s not a handsome man, not at all, he thinks his nose is way too big, and his eyes are always somewhat downcast. He doesn’t like it, but then again, it’s not like he has time to think over this stuff.

It’s Tuesday, and he’s already running late, he can’t simply stare at himself and drown in self-pity just because he doesn’t have a friendly face.

But then, with the towel still wrapped around his waist, his cellphone rings.

Not actually rings, because who on earth leaves their cellphones in the ringing mode? However, the sound of the device vibrating somewhere startles him all the same.

He fumbles with the covers of his bed and with the stuff he leaves at the bedside table.

Not there.

He quickly goes to the bathroom, still steamy. But the phone isn’t there, too.

It’s still super early for someone from work to call him, but hey, emergencies can always happen.

The vibrations stop, and Wonshik breathes.

For a single moment, he thinks of his mother, the way she coughed on their last phone call.

He puts more intent on his quest to find the phone, now in the middle of actually dressing.

The vibration starts again when Wonshik is in the middle of putting his pants on – skinny black jeans that don’t feel totally comfortable but that look nice with his grey boots and –

And then Wonshik falls to the ground with a thud and finally finds what he had been looking for.

He picks it, and his eyes widen when he sees who’s the early-risen caller.

There’s just a hamster emoji in there, and Wonshik quickly remembers how that came to be. One night where he and Taekwoon had ordered way too much Chinese takeout and Taekwoon stuffed his cheeks with noodles to the point he looked exactly how those tiny cute rodents looked like. They had laughed, and then Taekwoon had pretended to be offended, pinched Wonshik’s sides, and then they laughed some more.

It had been a nice night.

Taekwoon.

He calls back immediately.

The phone rings for a while until the other side picks up, Wonshik hears deep breaths and a quiet sob.

“Taekwoon?”

There’s no answer, but Wonshik isn’t a fool, he didn’t see it coming, but it wasn’t unexpected either. He acts quick.

“Hey, Taekwoon, I’m coming over, stay where you are ok? Take deep breaths, you’re gonna be fine, remember to breathe. Are you in your apartment?”

Another sob, he can almost picture in his head what is happening.

He had seen it before, long ago, in another city, with another person.

Anxiety can do that to people, sometimes, when left unattended.

“Y-yeah.”

The barely audible voice of Taekwoon fills his ears and oh.

“Okay, stay there. Breath.”

And with that, he gets up and moves.

It’s a good thing Taekwoon’s place it’s just one stop from his house, he will probably take only ten, fifteen minutes.

The short trip is filled with memories of what to do in those situations. Panic attacks are never easy. He wonders, as he steps inside the packed train if Taekwoon had experienced this before, if he had no one to call. Taekwoon doesn’t seem like the kind to have many friends – if any. Just like Wonshik. It’s a sad thought, one that Wonshik tries to erase.

At least he’s here now.

When he steps on the streets again, the cold air hits him, like a gentle reminder of how life can be so cruel sometimes, so icy. It doesn’t stop, even for the weak.

It’s the small little battles of everyday life, the struggle to talk, to pay rent, to shop for food. To bear criticism for a poorly done job, and all the frustrations of a brighter future that never comes. All of this, piling up.

It leads to things, you know?

Panic attacks, for an example.

Wonshik enters the old building at the same time an old lady is seeing herself out, which is a stroke of luck for sure; otherwise, he would have to call Taekwoon again, and he doesn’t want to do that.

He climbs the stairs, almost running but not really, and then, when he reaches the well-known red heavy door of Taekwoon’s apartment, he opens it.

Surprisingly, it’s unlocked, and Wonshik thinks how dangerous that is.

But first.

Well, first, he must find Taekwoon.

Since the apartment is small, he finds him quickly, at the kitchen’s floor, shards of glass everywhere, a cut on his hand, a crying face.

Anything can make a person break. A raise of voice, a loss, a mistake. Even broken glasses.

“Hey, hey.” Wonshik tries, kneeling carefully on the white tiles, trying not to cut himself in the process. It’s not easy to pick Taekwoon on his arms, but he manages. The other is still crying, babbling apologizes and wetting Wonshik’s shirt.

It’s alright.

He sits Taekwoon on the beige couch and crouches in front of him, hands placed on both of Taekwoon’s knees. For leverage, security.

The cuts on Taekwoon’s hands are small, nothing much. They do bleed. But that’s not important.

“It’s okay,” Wonshik says.

Taekwoon only shakes his head, his body shaking as well.

God, Wonshik is the worst at this.

He stops and thinks, and then gets up and sits beside the other man, petting his hair, trying to make him come close, closer until they’re in a half-hug.

It’s alright, they had been close like this before. Besides… this is kind of urgent.

“Why are you crying?” Wonshik tries this time with a question.

“I don’t know.”

Another sob, another shake.

Wonshik applies some pressure on Taekwoon’s arms, just to make sure everything is still real.

“I’m here now,” he says. “You’re not alone, and you’re fine, you’re going to be fine. Breathe with me okay? And then we can, you know, take a walk or…”

“But… work.”

Ah, so there’s that. Wonshik wants to laugh of desperation.

“I’m sure you can skip a day.”

Taekwoon only cries harder, clinging to Wonshik’s shirt like a lifeline.

By this position, Wonshik can finally embrace Taekwoon’s frame, and he rubs his hand back and forth on Taekwoon’s back, trying to give him some kind of comfort.

It’s almost pitiful that he, master of bad choices, is trying to help someone.

But his mind goes to places. Wonshik can feel how Taekwoon is so thin under his sweater, and he thinks on how even his cries are quiet, pretty. It’s not something nice to think about, but he can’t help it. Wonshik is just a man with many many flaws after all.

There’s blood dirtying the sofa and the front of his shirt, but that’s alright, he thinks. If only Taekwoon could calm down a little.

He does.

It takes some time, probably just a couple of minutes that feel like an eternity. But he does.

And when the sobs become just silent reminders of a breakdown, Wonshik gets up and decides it’s a good time for tea.

He looks at the clock on the wall and knows he’s already fucked at work. It doesn’t matter. As he leaves the kettle on the stove, he dials his workplace and makes a story out of anywhere, someone close got sick, they need help, Wonshik is the only one who can help. It’s not a lie, not really.

And then he has to take care of the other… work.

He picks Taekwoon’s phone from the ground at the same time the water starts to boil, the kettle making that awful noise.

Wonshik is not good at many things, but he’s kinda good at multitasking, so he makes tea for Taekwoon at the same time he tries to find Taekwoon’s workplace number.

When he handles the mug to Taekwoon, everything is already settled.

“Who were you talking to?”

The mug burns his hands, so he motions for Taekwoon to pick it up already.

Taekwoon nods, a super shy smile on his face. Probably a sign of gratitude.

“Your boss.”

“Oh.”

“We have the day off.”

Taekwoon blinks at him, face devoid of any emotion.

It’s normal, after an outburst like that.

“I think it would be good if we went out, I know some places where it won’t be crowded. I mean, if you want, of course.”

He sees the engines turning on Taekwoon’s head, and he doesn’t know what to do if Taekwoon decides he prefers to stay at home because… because it can help, or it can leave much more damage. Wonshik wouldn’t know. Not in this case at least.

But Taekwoon is nodding and holding Wonshik’s hands.

“Thank you.”

Wonshik thinks he doesn’t deserve any kind of thanks. He did the bare minimum. Just one look at Taekwoon’s cuts reminds him that not even that he did.

“Come,” he says, making Taekwoon get up from the couch. “We need to clean this and find you new clothes.” He eyes his shirt, now with drops of blood. “And for me too, I hope you don’t mind I borrow some of your stuff.”

Taekwoon cracks a smile.

◈

Something shifts after ‘_the incident_.’

Work is work and life is life, but maybe the sight of Taekwoon on broad daylight made Wonshik change his mind about a few things.

It’s not like he had an epiphany or anything mind-blowing like that – far from it. But the view of Taekwoon, wearing regular clothes (jeans and a white t-shirt and –), walking down the streets of the old neighborhood, together with the narrow streets that are still made of brick instead of asphalt… that makes Wonshik think.

And Taekwoon doesn’t talk that day, not much.

It’s fine, because Wonshik just wants to take care of the other man, tell him everything is going to be alright and, well, say to him that he’s beautiful. Because he is.

He doesn’t do that, though.

Instead, he shows Taekwoon places. They go to the old record store, and they go to the small park where children usually play on the dead grass.

It’s cold, too cold to be walking outside. But Taekwoon enters a liquor store and buys a bottle of gin, sneaking it inside his long brown coat and taking a sip from it every time no one is in sight.

Well, that’s probably not healthy, but Wonshik joins all the same.

The gin makes everything funnier, fuzzier, and they have lunch in one of those hidden places of the city. It’s Thai food, not great but not bad either.

And then they walk back home.

Taekwoon never saying anything about his reasons for the breakdown. And Wonshik is not one to push.

But the feeling, the crippling sensation that spreads through his limbs, coming right from inside his heart. He can’t help it.

It takes a total of two weeks.

Taekwoon is back at work, obviously. As is Wonshik.

Life doesn’t stop for the weak.

He sometimes wants to curse the government, or maybe the whole world itself. However, that would be useless and a waste of time and energy, so he just keeps going.

Just like Taekwoon.

With his tired eyes and thin body, his mint cigarettes, and shaky hands, now with little cuts here and there.

Life is a nasty business, just like work.

But yes, two weeks in total and it’s a Sunday afternoon. They’re both splayed on Wonshik’s couch – in Wonshik’s apartment because there a tv in here and Wonshik wants to watch the game. Which game? It doesn’t matter. Everyone is watching it, and sometimes Wonshik likes to do the things everyone is doing. It gives him a sense of belonging.

Taekwoon is fidgeting with his cellphone, not looking at the tv at all, because he just can’t. Some time ago, he had explained to Wonshik how he couldn’t concentrate on moving things on a screen. And look, Wonshik gets it. There’s nothing wrong.

They’re fine.

And Taekwoon’s arm touches Wonshik’s, just a tiny bit, and that’s it. Wonshik opens his mouth:

“Why don’t you quit your job?”

Taekwoon moves, straightening up. It’s hard to do it on this couch because it’s a very fluffy, very comfortable couch, but Taekwoon manages. 

“What.”

The tv shows a ball flying by, and Wonshik sees tiny people running towards it. He feels like jumping or opening a beer.

“You know,” he says, not sparing Taekwoon a glance, more for his own sake than anything. “It isn’t doing good for you. I mean, your health.”

By his side, he can almost see Taekwoon scowling. He tries a tiny glimpse, and he’s pouting a little, which is cute, kind of.

“I know how to take care of myself.”

And look, Wonshik can be shit at this friendship stuff, but he also knows he needs to push a little bit.

“Well, yeah, of course you know otherwise you wouldn’t be here, right? I’m not saying that. I’m saying you should look for other stuff because this job obviously is not doing you any good, you’re spent and tired and. I don’t know Taekwoon. Stress can do things to people, like… kill and stuff.”

Taekwoon turns to Wonshik completely, his knees on his chest, face impassive.

“Do you think I’m stressed?”

Surely that’s a tricky question, mainly because Taekwoon looks so soft in his grey hoodie, with his long black hair tied up and all. But Wonshik knows better.

“I don’t think it.”

On the screen, someone just made a goal, Wonshik turns slightly to watch the team celebrate. He cracks a smile. He doesn’t know either of the teams that are playing.

“Well, obviously you don’t.”

Wonshik laughs, loud, too loud.

“No!” He turns to Taekwoon, taking both of his hands and squeezing. “I mean, I can see it, I don’t need to think about it. It’s everywhere. The stress. You’re a super stressed man, Taekwoon.”

“Oh.”

Taekwoon retreats, leaving the place he was standing vacant, cold. Wonshik misses the contact.

“I will not tell you what to do, but.”

There’s a pause, a moment of stillness even if the game is still happening. The sun is just setting on the horizon, coloring the apartment with shades of orange and gold. Wonshik feels like he’s burning somehow, even if he feels cold, so cold.

It’s hard to say some stuff.

“But…?” Taekwoon asks, coming closer again.

Because here is the thing: as much as Taekwoon is a touchy person, Wonshik is also a constantly worried man. Maybe that’s why they fit, somehow.

“Stress does things to people, and, well I like you best when you smile, you know? It’s pretty, it lightens up the room, it makes, you know, the place warmer. Yeah. That. But stress can take that out of you, and you’ve been shaking so much lately… I just want to see you smile, because I care.”

There. He said it.

On the screen, he sees the game has ended. Only God knows who won.

Wonshik shifts, moving to get up only to be stopped by a pair of hands.

Time stops for a second. A moment where the sun finally is out of sight and the artificial lights from the streets cripple in, coloring every corner in a dull yellow shade.

“I will think about it,” Taekwoon says, but it’s so low, in such a whispery voice, Wonshik questions if he even heard anything at all.


	2. i still got my fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took this long ♡

Work is work, and there’s some kind of comfort in that.

Comfort in the way Wonshik doesn’t need to _think _about his own problems while he’s working. There are just too many other complications in his mind... as the line of this code that isn’t working, and this client that keeps calling him and. And his coworkers and his boss being an absolute madman.

And the long train rides, and leaving the office at nighttime only to be back a few hours later… 

And trying to fit a workout in his tight schedule, together with placing little notes here and there to remind himself to eat or drink water.

And the bills. All of them.

There’s comfort in all of those things.

Before Wonshik notices, time flies by, and there’s no more breakdowns whatsoever or any hard times.

Taekwoon had disappeared for a while, or maybe Wonshik was the one who got out of touch. The frenzy of routine can do that.

He doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, not at all, it just happens. One message laid forgotten and then another. And then suddenly a month went by, and he didn’t see Taekwoon at all.

But suddenly, or, maybe not so suddenly at all, it’s Wonshik’s birthday.

The realization of another year being pressed down upon his shoulders starts with a message from his sister, a cheerful thing that makes him crack a smile and call her right away.

Then, his mother and father call, and he’s enraptured with their news about the family until he arrives at work.

And then there’s work, of course, but Wonshik’s boss is adamant about the necessities of a happy hour for the whole department.

That’s how Wonshik sees himself inside a very cheap, filthy bar with his coworkers, downing beer after beer as if tomorrow wasn’t a Thursday.

“How old are you now?” One of the girls ask him, and Wonshik has to stop everything he’s doing just to_ count_ in his head.

He’s probably twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven. Twenty many years.

Yeah.

He says that to her, and she just chuckles and comes closer.

Which… is embarrassing, so he makes an excuse of having to pick up a call even though no one is calling him.

He walks towards the outside, feeling his body tingle with something. His heart is beating fast, and something is missing. He looks at the screen of his phone. Somewhere, someone is smoking one of those nasty mint cigarettes. Wonshik knows that because the smell is familiar, it makes him recall a feeling, an idea.

As if on cue, his phone rings. Once, twice.

There’s no name on the screen, only a simple emoji.

“Hey,” he says, a little bit rushed.

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon replies, his voice warm. “Happy birthday.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

A cold gust of wind passes by him, and he finally perceives that he’s been shaking this whole time. It’s still winter, after all.

On the streets, an ambulance rushes by, together with the awful noises of sirens and red colors.

“Where are you? Celebrating?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, something like that.”

Silence follows, but it isn’t real silence since Wonshik is still outside and the city is _alive_.

“Come home tonight,” Taekwoon says, tentatively, as if afraid of Wonshik’s answer.

But there’s nothing to be afraid of, not when Wonshik wants it too.

Realization dawns on him.

He misses Taekwoon, misses how the other can put him on ease. The quietness, the soft touches.

The scent of mint cigarettes.

“Okay,” he replies. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

He isn’t. Not precisely, because he still needs to say goodbye to his coworkers and grab his things. But soon he sees himself stepping inside that old train that will lead him to Taekwoon’s apartment. The buzz from the alcohol still in his veins, making the short trip all the more unpleasant, with all the bright lights and people.

Wonshik manages – barely. But he does.

Taekwoon’s apartment comes into view, and that’s the moment he can finally breathe again. In this neighborhood the streets are quiet, it’s probably because of its old occupants. Taekwoon never explained why he had chosen this particular place; however, it fits, somehow. It’s because Taekwoon has this kind of aura that brings memories of old books and smooth jazz, or maybe Wonshik is just drunk.

Probably the latter.

When he finally arrives on the third floor, staring at the heavy red door, Taekwoon is there as well, dressed in a too-big blue sweater and nothing else, hair pinned up in a small bun that’s falling to the sides.

The view seems too intimate, but Wonshik is just way too drunk, so he takes one step ahead and is welcomed by a warm hug and the familiar warmth that comes from Taekwoon, the smell of smoke and expensive organic shampoo.

“Hey,” Wonshik barely whispers.

“Hello, old man.”

And if Wonshik could stay in that embrace forever, he would.

But he can’t, and in a second Taekwoon is stepping out and giving space for Wonshik to enter the apartment.

They don’t touch like that again. Taekwoon looks reserved and flushed, for some reason. But Wonshik’s mind is still hazy with alcohol, and when Taekwoon gives him his birthday gift – headphones from an expensive brand – he cries. He actually cries.

It’s not a sad crying, though.

And Taekwoon, well.

He pats Wonshik’s back and says: “Better get you to sleep.”

He does.

He sleeps on Taekwoon’s couch, still wearing his workday clothes.

◈

Breakfast should be a hurried affair since both of them still have to work and all. Instead, they sit on the stools by the kitchen’s counter, legs almost touching, and Wonshik muses that, even with the anxiety, the cigarettes, and the occasional breakdowns, Taekwoon seems to have his life put together. It’s because of the imported jelly and the coffee that’s made on those loud machines, surely. And the way he dresses so nicely, Wonshik is almost sure his suit is from an expensive brand.

“Are you alright?” Comes the soft, sweet voice from his side.

Taekwoon is amazing and kind and everything beautiful, and Wonshik is undeserving of such kindness. But Wonshik is also a very selfish man.

“Why?”

“You’ve been staring at the coffee machine for five minutes now.”

“Oh.”

Taekwoon shifts on the stool, facing Wonshik, placing one hand on Wonshik’s thigh.

The touch burns a little.

“You cried yesterday, and now you’re like this. What happened? Is it because of your birthday?”

Is it? Wonshik doesn’t know for sure but…

“This thing,” he begins. “This thing about aging. It’s so hard. One day you’re out of college, and you think ‘_now my life will really start_’ but then. Well. I don’t know…”

Wonshik shakes his head, looking at Taekwoon, at the way he blinks slowly and at how his mouth parts a little. He continues:

“It’s like you’re swept away by life, and you become this colorless useless thing, just accepting, because there’s no other way, you know? I don’t know if you know. You’re so…”

“I’m what?”

Wonshik breathes.

“You’re…you know what you’re doing.”

Taekwoon chuckles, but there’s no humor in it.

“You know better than anyone else that that’s not the case.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, and I get it. I really do. Wonshik, I will be thirty this year.”

Wonshik stops for a moment, his mind coming to a halt.

“Does it get better?” He finally asks after a couple of seconds of just staring.

In response, Taekwoon opens a real smile, the kind of smile that brightens up the room.

“Of course it does.”

The hand on his thigh squeezes, and Wonshik feels his face burning.

Breakfast shouldn’t be like this, with the quietness and slow talks about years. So, he gets up and tells Taekwoon he’s late.

He only receives a nod in return.

On his way to the train, Wonshik stares at the leafless trees. It’s a colorless day, and he’s older, but not an inch wiser. 

Taekwoon said it gets better, so, he decides he will believe in him for now.

And if the streets look more colorful and vivid than before, well, that will be Wonshik’s little secret. 

◈

But colors don’t last, just like the seasons and the cold, cold winter.

Soon there are little green buds on the trees and more people on the streets. It’s as if the world is waking up for spring. 

However, Wonshik can’t feel anything. 

He longs for cold, quiet nights that are spent with red wine, slow talks, mint cigarettes and silent stares. He gets the dull grey colors of routine instead.

Work is still work, now more than ever, and he feels like he’s a sailor who’s drowning in black raging waters. He feels lost, small.

Wonshik doesn’t feel like himself at all.

And maybe that’s why he opts to spend more time at home, in bed, than with Taekwoon. 

Days become weeks, and sure, Taekwoon is there sometimes. However, the other man also has his own problems and demons to fight, so it gets hard to see each other for a while.

Until Taekwoon invites Wonshik for a night out with friends from work.

Wonshik says he will be there for sure, since it’s a Saturday and he has nothing else to do anyway.

However, getting out of bed it’s not an easy task; and Wonshik is so tired, exhausted, lost.

He loses track of time, of himself.

Sometimes it gets like that, with the weight of the world, and all his frustrations, making him immovable. The impossibility of getting out of bed dawns on him, but it’s already too late, or too early, for Wonshik to do anything about it, because as suddenly as he realizes the time, Taekwoon barges into his room looking drunk and angry.

Wonshik fucked up, apparently. 

How Taekwoon even entered his apartment is a mystery, but the reason why his friend is looking at him with such furious eyes is not.

Yet, it takes only seconds for the expression on Taekwoon’s face to change, from anger to concern. 

“Wonshik…?”

He tries to sit on the bed, letting the bedsheets fall on his waist.

“I’m sorry I –” Wonshik starts.

Taekwoon sits beside him, the bed making an awful creaky noise.

“You didn’t come,” Taekwoon starts, his hands waving in front of him, probably to control the shaking. “I got angry, I thought you would at least call, answer, anything. And then I got worried and ran here and now- are you okay?”

Wonshik looks at Taekwoon, at how he’s still sweaty from what could only be a power walk from the metro station. And his nice clothes, and the smell of smoke.

Then, he ponders Taekwoon’s question.

Is he okay, is there such a thing, can people be okay?

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

Taekwoon moves, wrapping Wonshik on his arms, bringing him closer and closer. Taekwoon is hugging him, tight and warm and Wonshik doesn’t even know what to do.

He only stays there.

Taekwoon lets go after a while, and Wonshik can see how his cheeks are tinted red, but it’s only because of the alcohol that is still lingering on Taekwoon's bloodstream. Wonshik can feel it, smell it.

“I’m going to sleep here, with you,” Taekwoon says, already moving the bedsheets and getting comfortable, still wearing his night-out clothes.

“But.”

“No buts, I will be here with you and tomorrow we will go out and have fun and maybe you will feel okay. No pressure, though.”

Wonshik only sighs, laying down again and feeling the very human presence near him. He’s not even sleepy, but Taekwoon seemed to drift off as soon as he closed his eyes. Wonshik only stares.

Several questions arise in his mind, and he’s pretty sure this is not what people usually do for others. Not that he would know.

Nonetheless, it feels nice, to have something palpable, human, so close.

Wonshik decides to not move an inch, and just… stare at Taekwoon as much as he can before he too falls asleep.

◈

The following day, Taekwoon practically drags Wonshik out of bed, throwing some clothes at him and, when Wonshik is ready, pulls him to the outside world.

The day is as bright and pretty as it could be, since springtime makes every corner more joyful.

Taekwoon holds his hand and shows Wonshik places. All the places Wonshik _knew_ were there but he always forgot about. Like the hidden art gallery in midtown, full of paintings of young aspiring artists that would never make it out there; or the record shop that only sells underground rap stuff.

Wonshik almost forgets about how he’s still feeling like shit.

Almost, because the feeling never goes away.

However, Taekwoon is as sweet as the flowers blooming on the trees, so Wonshik does his best.

And they start this new trend on their days spent together. Not being inside any of their apartments but opting to go out and out and out. No more drinks, no more slow conversations about humanity. It’s all Taekwoon’s fault, and Wonshik misses the comfort of home. He knows this is necessary, though. 

It’s in the middle of spring that Wonshik starts to feel more at ease. More human, less despair. He tells himself it’s not because of the flowers, or the nights out, or how he’s actually having a good time at his job.

It’s not because of anything, it’s just how life is.

◈

Wonshik wakes up one day, and there’s no more rain, no more flowers.

Just the impending heat that comes with summer, and a Taekwoon standing on his kitchen, brewing some coffee and looking utterly different.

Wonshik blinks thrice before speaking.

“Uh, Taek?”

The man turns, and yeah, Taekwoon seems very real, very blond, with _short_ hair.

Wonshik blinks again.

“Yeah?”

The casual way Taekwoon says that while handling Wonshik a cup of coffee makes everything seem more surreal.

He takes a sip, and it tastes bitter, burnt.

“Is it that bad? I’m sorry I had a problem here and –”

“Did you cut your hair? And dyed it blond?” He finally says, a little bit more exasperated than intended.

“Oh, this?” Taekwoon points at his head, smiling a little. “Did you like it?”

Did him? Wonshik doesn’t know. Taekwoon doesn’t look bad, quite the contrary. Actually, Wonshik doubts Taekwoon would look bad in any kind of style. Taekwoon is just too good-looking for that.

And yeah, maybe the whole blonde thing makes Wonshik want some stuff that isn’t currently allowed given the status of their friendship and all, but that’s ok.

And oh.

Wonshik should never have thought on that.

But he needs to give Taekwoon an answer, so he just nods and says a lame “_yes_.”

It’s only after a quick breakfast when they’re already walking towards some kind of park that Taekwoon assures him ‘has the best view of the peach trees’ and also ‘the best hot dog in town,’ that Wonshik finally says more than two words to Taekwoon:

“Why the change? Of your hair, I mean.”

Taekwoon looks at him at the same moment the sun starts to shine through the buildings, and it’s a hot day, there’s already beads of sweat on his forehead. And he looks… Wonshik is afraid to think about what Taekwoon looks.

He smiles, “I quitted.”

Wonshik stops. A group of passersby looks at him with some kind of irritation, but he doesn’t mind them.

“You what?”

“My job. You know? You told me to quit some time ago, and then I kept thinking about it and well. It just happened.”

There’s a small smile on Taekwoon’s face, and it’s precious. It speaks of freedom and joy. Wonshik wants to hug him, but he refrains.

“That’s… that’s great, we should maybe celebrate?”

“We’re already celebrating.”

With that, it’s impossible for Wonshik to not smile as well.

The sun burns their skin, and it’s uncomfortable, but something – something that wasn’t there before – arises between them.

◈

It’s summer, and Wonshik has a day off, because of some holiday. Taekwoon, now unemployed and living his best life, is at Wonshik apartment.

They’re both sipping beers and watching some nonsense show on the tv. Wonshik himself is not actually watching it, preferring to just enjoy the tiny moment of peace.

It’s been weeks, and now he’s used to the now blond man.

Taekwoon gained some weight after he quitted his job, and he looks so… touchable. Wonshik doesn’t know what to do with his own hands, his own thoughts.

It got to a point where he opts to sit on the far end of the couch, so to not do something unthinkable.

But Taekwoon is Taekwoon, and he’s clingy as always.

Wonshik barely registers when the sound of the tv is lowered to a minimum, but he does notice Taekwoon moving, getting nearer, touching Wonshik’s bare arm.

It’s a hot day, after all.

And he expects the touch. What he doesn’t is what follows.

“Do you believe in love?”

“I – What?”

Taekwoon leans closer, too close, staring at Wonshik’s eyes, their noses almost touching. It’s unsettling.

“Love, you know? The feeling.”

That makes Wonshik turn his head to the side, embarrassed – for the closeness and the question.

He laughs, trying to sound carefree.

“What do you mean if I believe in it? Isn’t it love, like, the most common emotion out there? The one people write about all the time? It’s not like I can choose not to believe in it. Love is not like the moon landing by men or something like that.”

Taekwoon raises his eyebrows, leaning back on the couch, finally giving Wonshik a space to breathe.

“Do you not believe in the moon landing? Like, that thing that was overly documented and filmed and there are many proofs of happening?”

“I –”

“No, wait,” Taekwoon says, already unlocking his cellphone and opening google. “This is a crucial point in our relationship.”

And sure, Taekwoon starts to show Wonshik all those videos proving that men did step on the moon and whatnot. However, the only thing Wonshik can focus on is how Taekwoon described this _thing_ they have as a _relationship_.

Not friendship, not buddies.

A relationship.

Wonshik freaks out a little, more out of anxiety than anything.

It was probably a mistake on Taekwoon’s part because obviously, he didn’t mean _that_. Wonshik is sure of it.

So, with nothing else to do other than to have a breakdown in silence, Wonshik agrees with the moon landing and everything.

On that night, Wonshik dreams of futures that could never be.

◈

It starts in the summer. The want, the desire.

Wonshik is confused beyond himself, and because of life and routine, he tries not to think much, he really does.

But, despite trying hard, it’s impossible not to think about Taekwoon.

It feels like living two separate lives, one boring and dull and grey, with demanding clients, challenging tasks, too many hours spent working; and then another, colorful, full of warmth, alcohol and a soft voice.

Work is work, as always; and life is life, as always, too. But something changes in the summer.

And the want comes in the darkest hours, when Wonshik is alone in bed and touches himself, trying not to think on anyone, but ending up with only one vision in mind.

Wonshik doesn’t have the heart to say the name of the vision – of the man– out loud. Nevertheless, he lets himself enjoy those few moments of fantasy.

It gets almost unbearable, though, to think of his friend in that way, because when he finally sees him – sees Taekwoon, Wonshik can’t do anything about it.

He can’t kiss, and he can’t hold and bite and –

Well.

Amidst all of those intrusive thoughts, there’s also another one. The kind of thinking Wonshik is way too used. The fear, the anxiety.

Because he wants, but he can’t have it, and even if he _could_, would Taekwoon want him too?

Who would want Wonshik?

It’s in the summer, with the heat and noise, that Wonshik finds out he’s still an insecure, confused man.

◈

It’s in the summer when Taekwoon is leaning on Wonshik’s chest, when they’re both sitting on a bench park, watching dogs running by, that Wonshik hears the news.

There’s no wind, only shouts and barks and people passing by. Taekwoon’s voice, soft and low, can only be heard by Wonshik.

And Taekwoon – blonde and bright and chubby – smiles at Wonshik and says:

“I’m going away on a trip.”

Wonshik only hums, staring at Taekwoon’s eyes and concentrating on the blackness he can see there. It’s only after a few seconds – when a kid falls nearby and starts to cry – that he realizes what he had just heard.

“You what?”

Taekwoon laughs, changing his position and getting fate to face with Wonshik. Close, too close.

If they’re both blushing, it’s because of the warmth of the day, of course.

“I feel kinda lost,” Taekwoon replies, letting his eyes go down. “After this whole quitting thing… I need to see new things.”

“How long are you going to be away?”

They stare at each other for a while, until Taekwoon retreats and Wonshik can almost feel the longing already building up inside his heart.

If only he could touch or speak…

“I don’t know yet. A couple of weeks, a month? Not too long.”

“Oh.”

A hand touches Wonshik’s bare arm. It’s, obviously, Taekwoon, always reaching out, always touching for both of them.

“Are you going to miss me?”

He wants to answer with a thousand words of adoration. But he can’t, and he won’t.

Wonshik chuckles instead, “A little bit, yeah.”

Taekwoon looks at him then, in a way it shows he knows something more, but the sun is still shining, so Wonshik is quick to change subjects.

He doesn’t want to think about Taekwoon leaving, and he surely doesn’t want to think about how much his heart will miss the other man.

So, he opts to talk about the weather and any other triviality that comes to mind. Taekwoon keeps smiling but, somehow, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello my dears  
things got very crazy and weird and now i moved houses? lol
> 
> anyway, hope you all are well and healthy and loving. i'm always wishing the best, to anyone who reads my silly stories
> 
> sending much love
> 
> ☆ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus) ☆
> 
> ps - sorry if this chapter is MESSY my head is MESSY these days


	3. so far, so fast

Taekwoon is gone before Wonshik notices.

But when he does notice, he feels it. He feels it when he wakes up, hard and sweaty and thinking about Taekwoon; and he feels it when his day actually starts, when routine takes over.

He feels, and he thinks, and the longing builds up and up.

Taekwoon is somewhere far away, with no reasonable connection, no wi-fi. Almost unreachable. The time zones don’t work, there’s never a right moment to call. And then, why would Wonshik even call his _friend_? It’s not what friends do anyway.

He just sends little messages throughout the week. Some cute pictures, some updates on his life.

Nothing much; never much.

It was supposed to be a short trip, Taekwoon had said that. But it turned out to be a lot more,

Before Wonshik sees it, a month had passed by, without any sign of Taekwoon ever coming back.

◈

There’s still the heat of the summer, merciless and unbearable, but there’s also the heat of _life_. Somewhat, his boss leaves the office and another person is assigned to the position, a woman who talks too loudly and is too serious sometimes. But she changes things. There are happy hours every Friday, bonding exercises, weekly meetings. She changes how things work, and Wonshik’s mood changes as well.

He goes out. He drinks, and he talks to people.

That girl from his department, Kim Yoonji, starts texting Wonshik. She wants to go to coffee shops and movie dates.

And he goes.

He feels lost, but at least there’s some company.

And _life_.

He starts exercising, he starts buying organic food.

He tries to smile more.

He schedules a tattoo, and he does it, a big angel on his rib. He says to himself it’s for blessing purposes, but deep down, he knows it’s mostly because of the pain and the aesthetics.

One day, he receives a picture from Taekwoon. His bleached blonde hair seemed to have grown a little, showing black roots. But what catches Wonshik’s attention is the little pout, the moist lips the… well. The picture comes with a message: “_been missing u, I'm coming back soon_.”

That single picture changes everything, as if a stone was cast on calm water, making waves and ripping it apart – disturbing what was once harmonious. Because the _want_ comes back full force, and maybe Wonshik has just a tiny little crush on Taekwoon.

The realization of _feelings_ is both enlightening as well as it’s frightening.

They’re friends. Just that.

Wonshik decides to text Yoonji, and then he goes out with her, kissing her afterward.

It feels wrong and unfair.

He apologizes profusely right on the next day, he mumbles, arguing that he’s already _taken_.

What a liar.

But who could blame him when he feels so… all over the place?

Things are good, but they’re not right.

There’s something vital missing in Wonshik’s life, and he’s so afraid of what that thing could be. He wonders if this whole issue isn’t about Taekwoon at all, but about himself.

When the summer’s rain starts and there's no Taekwoon anywhere, Wonshik decides to change.

◈

It starts slowly, as these things usually start.

It’s all in the small things; on being alone in his small crampy apartment and realizing it’s an unfortunate life, the one he lives. Very lonely, pitiful.

He wears masks when going outside, when working, when talking to the so-called friends, but here, alone in the comfort of what should be called a home, Wonshik can be himself and what he wants to do is change.

He cleans his apartment, meticulously and slowly.

And there’s comfort in washing the dishes piled up, on feeling the cold water on his hands reminding him of how much alive he truly is.

His untidy bed is quickly organized, bedsheets and pillows and the reminder of someone who once slept there.

It does things to his mind, to think about _him_.

But Wonshik won’t make the same mistakes again, and, despite his heart and mind, he does send a message to Taekwoon. Because he _misses_ him and being truthful about his feelings – well. It’s a start.

Wonshik starts to change, slowly, as slow as the end of the summer.

◈

The rain comes, merciless, dripping and dripping, on the streets and on Wonshik’s windows.

A man also comes, together with the rain.

It’s not the man he’s waiting for, of course it isn’t. It could never be.

The man he waits and waits would always leave traces of himself before appearing on Wonshik’s doorstep, like little messages, phone calls, a reminder, a thought.

But no, the man who appears at Wonshik’s front door is familiar and strange at the same time, a smile full of teeth on his face, hair dripping on his forehead and on Wonshik’s floor.

“Hongbin?”

The man smiles, “Hello, old friend.”

And that’s how Lee Hongbin – Wonshik’s best friend during the terrible years of high school – gets back in his life. He comes with a talk about moving to the big city, about getting lost and about getting a job.

Hongbin is not a big talker, but he does talk with Wonshik. At some point into the night, he questions Wonshik on why they never kept in touch all those years. Wonshik doesn’t have an answer to that, neither does Hongbin.

But it’s alright and familiar, the way they talk about their lives and how they drink beer.

Hongbin is here to stay, and maybe – just maybe – that’s the comfort Wonshik wished for.

◈

“So… who’s this guy?”

Hongbin had been for a total of three days in the city and had already understood Wonshik’s ways and hours. He managed to rent an apartment quite nearly Wonshik’s own, which didn’t help at all in this case. The case being that Hongbin was more often than not at Wonshik’s apartment, going through his things and, in overall, tidying the place because that’s what Hongbin does. Not that Wonshik is complaining, but the lack of privacy gets on his nerves from time to time. He understands that it’s just the beginning, that Hongbin will quickly get into the mood of big cities, which is: never get too close to anyone.

This is another one of those stupid rules Wonshik made for himself, but thinking about it now makes him sound silly.

Instead of plainly ignoring Hongbin, Wonshik decides to take a look at the picture he’s holding.

It’s the only picture he has of Taekwoon – of course it’s Taekwoon – and it’s the only picture he has in his whole house. It’s a polaroid, one he took when Taekwoon wasn’t looking, but the lighting was bad, and the picture makes him look like a ghost himself. Maybe he _was_ a ghost all along. Wonshik isn’t sure.

“This is Taekwoon,” he simply answers.

Hongbin makes a face, “Your new best friend? I’m jealous.”

And it’s impossible not to chuckle at that.

Was Taekwoon a friend? A memory? A place where Wonshik could always go back to in sorrowful times?

“No,” he says. “He’s just Taekwoon.”

Hongbin hums, and that’s all he has to say on the subject. For that, Wonshik is grateful.

◈

“Maybe you love him.”

The noises coming from every corner of the bar – glasses tinkling, people chatting, laughing, chairs being moved – make Wonshik glance at Hongbin twice, just to make sure he had heard it right.

“What?”

Hongbin downs his glass of gin tonic in one go, his face flushed, his eyes showing amusement. 

It was Wonshik’s idea this time, to go out and see the night – feel the people. However, as the drinks kept coming and as the night started settling in, Wonshik’s mind got hazy. He started texting the one person he shouldn’t be talking right now. Lord only knows what he could be saying to Taekwoon.

His phone lights up, showing a message, just a simple laugh.

Wonshik smiles.

“You do love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Hongbin.”

“Of course you don’t,” Hongbin replies. “Gonna order the last one, want anything?”

He ponders the question because he’s already feeling light-headed and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, same as yours,” he answers.

“Great.”

With that, Hongbin walks away, his frame disappearing into the sea of people that this trendy bar seems to hold with such easiness. A true wonder of big cities, Wonshik must confess.

But before he can lose himself in thoughts about crowds, his phone lights up again. 

‘_I’m going back next week, can’t wait to see you_.’

Wonshik feels the heat rising on his cheeks, and it’s certainly because of all the alcohol he had drunk during the night. He answers Taekwoon, though. He responds with a happy face and with a question about the time of the flight and whatnot. His heart beats fast inside his ribcage, and he feels like he could die, too. But it’s just the alcohol.

Thankfully, Hongbin arrives with his gin tonic, making Wonshik forego his cellphone for the meantime.

He _does_ need a drink.

◈

Work is work, life is life, and a hangover is a hangover – as always.

Wonshik wakes up the next day feeling like he actually had died last night. No memory of anything after the second drink. He entertains the idea of calling Hongbin and asking what happened, but he refrains.

The morning commute to work feels like going into the seventh circle of hell, but it’s usual, typical. It’s only Wednesday, after all. Only three more days to go.

In the back of his mind, he knows there’s something important that happened, something to do about _feelings_. But it’s too early, the wagon of the train too crowded, for Wonshik to think much about it.

Whatever was important, it will come back again, hopefully.

He ought to stop going out for drinks in the middle of the week, but then again, he says that to himself for years now.

He should stop altogether.

When he leaves the subway and goes up and up to the streets, a gust of wind hits him. Someone is smoking those terrible mint cigarettes nearby, and _that_ makes him remember.

A message, a person.

A reunion.

Soon.

Wonshik still feels like he’s dead, his brain can’t function on its total capacity, but he enters his office building with a smile on his face.

◈

Wonshik calls Hongbin in the middle of the night. He calls because he knows the other will be awake playing games, or, at least, he assumes he would be.

Thankfully, Hongbin is, and he answers with an annoyed sigh:

“What is it?”

“Bin, hey man, how are you?”

Hongbin clicks his tongue, background noises of a battlefield echo through the speakers.

“Did you take some drugs? Why are you so euphoric?”

“Oh,” Wonshik pauses, rethinking his whole life. Did he? Most certainly not. “Just wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…? But be quick, man, I’m in the middle of something here.”

“Have you ever loved anyone? How does it feel?”

More gunshots, some screaming. Hongbin is probably playing those games that Wonshik never understood the meaning of.

“Wonshik.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you _sure_ you’re ok?”

He chuckles nervously, “Never been greater!”

And okay, maybe he had stayed up late at work, and perhaps he had drank more coffee than necessary, but that’s beside the point.

“Go to sleep, we talk tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“But…”

“Wonshik,” Hongbin says. “I’m definitely not the one you should be asking this, now go.”

Hongbin hangs up, leaving Wonshik alone in the darkness of his room.

If not Hongbin – that granted, was not the ideal person for this – then who?

◈

The barista across the counter looks at him _funny_, making Wonshik babble an apologize.

It’s early afternoon, which means the coffee shop doesn’t have many customers around. It’s only the barista and Wonshik – who just ordered a double espresso and asked if the guy knows _how it feels when you love someone_.

The nametag says the man’s name is Chiwoong, and he’s still looking at Wonshik as if he had grown a second head. Maybe he did, who knows.

“I’m sorry it’s just – ”

“It’s okay man,” the barista apparently called Chiwoong replies, turning his back to Wonshik to start preparing the coffee. “I heard worse questions during my time here.”

Wonshik sits on the stool at the counter, observing Chiwoong do his work. Soon a double espresso is in front of him, and Wonshik questions his choices.

The man leans on the counter, studying Wonshik.

“Maybe you’re overthinking it.”

Wonshik sips the coffee, it tastes strong.

“Maybe I am.”

“If you like the person, you should tell them.”

The coffee burns his tongue, a silent memory of a long-forgotten day.

“I don’t know if I can.”

Chiwoong smiles at him, with his young face and young eyes.

“Why?”

That makes Wonshik think and stay silent for a while, he finishes drinking his coffee, hoping that it will do its work, and, after that, he gets up.

“You know, you have a fucking good point there,” he says, amused by this whole situation.

A laugh echoes through the coffee shop, coming from both of them.

“I don’t know much about anything,” Chiwoong says. “Only about how to make a good coffee, but I guess being honest is always the safest route, everywhere. Especially with yourself.”

Wonshik blinks, pays the coffee, leaving a generous tip for this odd barista.

“That’s a lot of bullshit, but it isn’t wrong.”

The man shakes his head, “No, it isn’t.”

◈

Going back to work is hard when questions as important as _love_ plague his mind, so Wonshik gives himself an early day and leaves the office as soon as the clock hits 6:00 pm.

He thinks and thinks.

The commute back to his apartment is filled with crowded wagons, loud noises, and people – too many people.

Everything makes him think.

What is love, really?

Is it the late-night talks about futures that could never be? Is it the shaking of hands, the mint cigarettes? Is it the silky hair that falls over someone’s eyes?

Or, maybe, love is the tiny smile that appears on Taekwoon’s face whenever Wonshik makes a dumb joke. Or when they sit so close, they share some kind of warm. When they drink, and Taekwoon gets clingy, pouty.

Maybe love isn’t any of those, and Wonshik is just messing things up in his head. He reaches that conclusion when he steps on the streets again and a chill air hits him. The promise of autumn arriving sooner than expected.

With slow steps, looking here and there for any kind of clarity, he thinks.

If love isn’t any of those things, Wonshik doesn’t know what it could be.

If love is that grandiose unreachable thing up in the skies, where no mortal man could ever touch, then Wonshik doesn’t want it.

Wonshik wants what he can touch, what he can taste. Wonshik wants a plump body and a sweet voice that calls his name whenever he arrives late from work. Wonshik wants home-cooked meals and fancy suits. Wonshik wants…

Wonshik wants to give it a try. A chance.

If it’s love or not, that’s not actually important.

He wants Taekwoon, in whatever way he lets Wonshik have.

◈

_‘taekie, do u want me to pick u up at the airport?’_ sent 8:03pm

_‘do u want to?’ _sent 1:15am

◈

Wonshik can’t concentrate for the life of him when Friday arrives. He calls Hongbin and talks and talks, about changing seasons, weather, his tedious work. Hongbin only listens and asks if Wonshik wants to have lunch together.

Wonshik doesn’t want that, in fact, all he wants to do is go to the airport and wait for his friend – friend? – to arrive. However, he knows that’s not a possibility since he still needs to work for at least six more hours, and Taekwoon’s flight arrives way late into the night.

He declines Hongbin’s invitation with some sort of kindness and a promise: “I will introduce you to Taekwoon as soon as possible,” he says.

Hongbin chuckles and makes a joke on how he wants to be the best man at their wedding. Wonshik blushes at that.

He can’t think about _weddings_ when he’s not even sure about what step they are in their complicated relationship.

There’s a lot of ‘what ifs’ in Wonshik’s mind. What if he misunderstood, what if he’s only being obsessed… is he even attracted to men? Is Taekwoon?

His mind is a spiral of confusion and doubts, so much so that when he finally makes to the airport – his whole body shaking from anxiety – he can’t think of anything at all.

Wonshik feels empty, devoid of everything, every kind of emotion. Bland and hollow.

The airport is crowded, too many people and bags and announcements.

It's overwhelming.

Wonshik shakes and sweats. He swears his heart stops for a second.

And Taekwoon’s flight is delayed.

In the meantime, Wonshik observes. He finds a nice and comfortable place to wait up, he scrolls mindlessly on his phone. He texts Taekwoon even though the other man will not be able to read it.

He writes many things, but mostly, he writes about his feelings, his longing, his doubts. He says everything to Taekwoon through text messages, because Wonshik is dumb like that.

He writes:

_Hey Taekwoon, I know you can’t read this right now, but I can’t hold those feelings inside me any longer. It’s a mix of many things, but I guess I owe you some honesty. I’m here, waiting for you, waiting for you to land in our city and I just want to see you again, whole and real, in front of me. And then I ask myself: what kind of feeling is this? I don’t know I don’t know. These last months without you were not hard, but I missed you. I went to this cheap Korean restaurant and I couldn’t not think of you, on how you would love the meat there. And then… just this week I passed through one of those old record stores, they were playing some classic piano song and that also made me think of you. Everywhere that I turn, there are traces of you, on the walls of the grey buildings, inside the crowded subway, when it’s late and no one is awake. What is this, Taekwoon? Can you help me? Do you feel the same? Or am I being a fool. You can tell me if that’s the case, because all I want is you, in my life. I guess that’s it…_

_Please, don’t go away like this again. I may be attached but, if next time you decide to take a three-month trip somewhere far away, take me with you, or just… tell me what we are._

_I just want you…_

_Please arrive soon._

Wonshik blinks and hits send, hoping for the best.

And then he looks up, to the big display that shows the departures and arrivals. He looks up, and he hears the man in the speakers saying something that gets lost on Wonshik’s ears.

Because Wonshik can see that Taekwoon’s flight just landed and his heart stops for good. Wonshik thinks he could die right this moment.

And there’s an eternity of people coming out of that damn automatic door, all of them carrying bags and tired looks. An eternity of Wonshik’s soul leaving his body.

And then.

Well.

An unmistakable face, eyes searching the crowd, a tall frame, a blush on the cheeks.

Taekwoon arrives.

Wonshik thinks on running towards him, but his body gave up long ago, so he just stays there, looking at Taekwoon as if he was a mirage – which he most certainly is.

Thankfully, Taekwoon spots Wonshik, and a smile blooms on his face. He’s the one who runs to Wonshik, carrying his heavy bag and every kind of hope with him; his hair is now black again – disheveled and long enough to hide his eyes – his cheeks are full, his shirt is wrinkled from the journey. But he’s there and he’s real and –

Taekwoon hugs Wonshik in the middle of the crowded airport, pressing their bodies together. Wonshik can feel everything and then some more, he can feel his heart jumping in his ribcage, he can feel Taekwoon’s too. He can breathe Taekwoon’s scent, and just doing it already makes his head spins.

Time does stop, for them at least.

And when Taekwoon lets go, just a little, it’s only to whisper on Wonshik’s ear: “I missed you, I’m so sorry.”

Wonshik can’t understand why he’s apologizing, but he picks Taekwoon’s hands and says:

“Let’s go... let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends!
> 
> yes, I know this story was supposed to have 3 chapters but oopsie, I decided it needed some more... stuff... so yeah
> 
> hope you're all well! 
> 
> always sending love;
> 
> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


	4. you know I dreamed about you

The ride to Taekwoon’s apartment is spent in silence. The uber driver even tries to start a conversation about the weather and traffic, with no avail. Both Taekwoon and Wonshik just answer the man with a combination of ‘yeah’s and ‘uh’s.

But they hold hands. Wonshik can feel all the curves of Taekwoon’s hands, the way they’re rough in some parts, soft on others. The veins, the nails. It’s some kind of wonder to be so close to the object of his affections after so long.

There are a thousand questions raging in Wonshik’s mind, but he doesn't dare to breach the silence, to start anything.

The ride is silent, but Wonshik’s mind is screaming.

Taekwoon is probably feeling the same because his hands don’t stop shaking, and he looks at Wonshik with eyes that don’t say anything.

It’s frightening.

But they are still holding hands, and Taekwoon slightly rests his head on Wonshik’s shoulder.

The city lights pass through them slowly - because traffic is still a thing in this city, and Wonshik can’t help but marvel about how the different hues glimmer on Taekwoon’s skin.

A beautiful, scary thing, the feelings inside Wonshik’s heart.

It’s with thoughts of everything and nothing at all that they finally reach Taekwoon’s apartment. _Home_. Where everything started with a bottle of wine and a conversation about _life_.

How they got here, to this point, and where the future will take them. Those are the questions that he keeps repeating to himself.

Wonshik helps Taekwoon with his luggage on the staircase, and because it’s heavy and big, they have some kind of difficulty, but not without laughing the whole way up. It’s the familiarity of the building and Taekwoon’s apartment, left just like Wonshik remembered, that makes Wonshik manages to let out a sigh of relief.

It’s in the moment he’s marveling about the fact that it’s okay if nothing changes in between them that Taekwoon approaches him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Such a surprise, such soft lips.

He feels his skin tingling.

“I’m going to take a shower, wait for me?” Taekwoon says. “I don’t know if there’s anything in the fridge, but you know, you’re home.”

Wonshik only nods in response, too dumbstruck, too out of it.

He touches the side of his cheek where Taekwoon kissed and – well. It’s probably not the first time this happened, but he can’t quite think straight.

He stays there, facing Taekwoon’s apartment, the balcony, the beige couch – so familiar he could call his own. Taekwoon’s luggage, still by the door. But Wonshik doesn’t have the key to open it, and maybe that train of thought leads him to another one: Wonshik doesn’t have any key at all, to open Taekwoon’s bag or Taekwoon’s heart. He doesn’t have anything – only himself.

He should do something, he should move, but everything seems like a dream. The dim lights, the city outside, the sound of the shower running. Wonshik’s heart beating inside his ribcage, a reminder that he’s still alive, still here. With or without Taekwoon.

Footsteps take him out of his daze. It’s, of course, the owner of this place (and his heart). 

“Why are you still there, Wonshikkie?”

The soft voice, the approaching body, all of this is expected. What is unexpected is the hug that follows. Taekwoon feels good near him, skin to skin. Wonshik breathes in.

“What’s on your mind?” Taekwoon whispers right by his ear, his damp hair tickling Wonshik’s neck.

Some droplets of water fall from Taekwoon’s hair on Wonshik’s face, but he doesn’t mind that. He doesn’t know how to answer. There’s nothing and everything in his mind. All the possibilities and sadness.

Taekwoon takes a step back, “What’s wrong?”

Wonshik blinks.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Probably,” Taekwoon replies, chuckling out of nervousness.

But Wonshik can’t quite move, so Taekwoon guides them to the couch. They sit side by side, looking at the wall in front of them instead of at each other. It doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel like _them_, so Wonshik moves, changing his position so he can face Taekwoon properly, can observe his eyes, hold his shaking hands.

They shake on Wonshik’s hold, but Taekwoon moves as well.

When they’re finally facing each other, Taekwoon smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes:

“I read your message.”

“Oh.”

“It was kind of cute.”

Wonshik feels himself blushing.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, and he knows his voice wavers a little.

“Oh no,” Taekwoon says, approaching Wonshik, their knees brushing. “I should be the one apologizing.”

He frowns, letting Taekwoon dislodge his hands form Wonshik to fidget with the ends of his sweater. His black hair, still wet, falls on his eyes – a rough memory from when they first met so long ago in one of the dirty wagons.

“Why?”

Taekwoon only stares at Wonshik.

And the silence stretches.

And stretches.

Outside, an ambulance passes by, its sirens disturbing the whole neighborhood.

Outside, the big city still lives on.

And then:

“For not saying anything, for running away, for trusting you without even asking.”

The choice of words makes Wonshik straighten himself on the couch, if he was lost before, now he’s even more. Maybe they approached the subject in the wrong way, so he tries another route:

“Why is your hair black again?”

Taekwoon widens up his eyes, and then he _laughs_. He laughs just like he always did near Wonshik: bright, loud and carefree. He fans himself a little with his hands, blushing and laughing, and then they are not awkward anymore.

It’s okay.

They are fine.

“It’s… it’s not a long story actually. Maybe we should begin from my hair, yes.”

Wonshik smiles at him, “Okay?”

“You know me,” Taekwoon starts, and this time, it’s him that picks Wonshik’s hand, caressing it lightly. “I quitted my job because of stress, but. Well, I didn’t know what exactly I wanted to do with my life, so I decided to travel, to see things, talk to strangers. I’m a very selfish man, Wonshik.”

Nothing of what Taekwoon says it’s a surprise, so he only nods in understanding.

“But what I found out was that… well, it’s somewhat a cliché.”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t run away from yourself, right? You know that.”

Wonshik looks at Taekwoon, at the way he feels soft, smooth. _Easy_.

“I know that,” he answers, not knowing at all.

“And I felt alone and lost, even more than how I felt when I was here. But I was determined to see something, to achieve, so I kept going. I traveled to so many places, met so many people. I… even kissed some of them.”

“Oh.”

That doesn’t sit well for Wonshik, but he can’t do anything about it, so he only stays there, sitting, feeling Taekwoon’s hand, waiting for him to continue.

“The thing is,” Taekwoon says, shaking his head slightly, looking at everywhere, every corner, but at Wonshik. “In the end, I found out I couldn’t keep running because it wasn’t me. My mom called some weeks ago, my sister is pregnant. You know how family is… I had to go back, and the call made me realize a lot of things. I realized how I missed you, too. Because you’re part of this, aren’t you? All of this.”

“I…”

“Shh, let me finish,” Taekwoon says, placing one finger on Wonshik’s lips and giving him a warm smile.

“I decided to go back to being a lawyer, it’s what I am, I don’t know how to be anything else, in the same way I don’t know how to live without the money and frivolities that being a lawyer brings. It’s… good… to accept that about yourself.”

Wonshik hums. Taekwoon isn’t completely right, but he isn’t wrong either. Everyone has a life, and everyone has the responsibility to make that life how they want to. That is the only thing Wonshik knows. If Taekwoon is happy with his choices… so be it.

What he doesn’t know is where he fits inside Taekwoon’s life, and maybe it’s the desperation surging inside his heart that makes him snap out and say:

“But.. what do you want, Taekwoon? Really? What do _you _want?”

Taekwoon smiles, bashful with a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. He looks at the sides, and then he shakes his head.

“I want a life that’s filled with the sweetness of love,” Taekwoon replies. “The kind of life you achieve after years and years of trying. The life where, suddenly, you just look up at the skies and says ‘_oh, so that’s it_,’ you know? I want the tenderness, the bliss. I think I want you, too. In that kind of life.”

“Oh.”

Wonshik is left speechless.

It can’t be real, can it?

“You still don’t understand,” Taekwoon replies, getting up and walking towards the balcony, seemingly frustrated.

Taekwoon opens the window, letting the cold air of the evening hit them, and then he turns his body to Wonshik, closing his eyes. Somewhat, seeing him there, standing, dressed in a grey sweater and house pants, makes Wonshik shiver. It’s the simplicity of the moment, the small things that make him ache.

“Help me, then,” he barely whispers, getting up from the couch and going to Taekwoon. Not getting close but not getting far either.

A common ground.

They look at each other’s eyes.

“It’s my fault to have assumed things. I thought you knew, I thought we already had something going on.”

Wonshik frowns, “But we never…?”

“I know I know,” Taekwoon waves his hands in the air. “Confusing times. You were lonely and sad, I could relate to that, could relate to _you_. And you were always so kind, so open… We _matched_, right? You could feel it too, couldn’t you?”

Wonshik tilts his head to the side, trying to understand what’s going on, but Taekwoon continues:

“I thought we were together, and you just didn’t like kissing or any of the touchy stuff. I know there are people who are like that.”

And maybe is the expression on Wonshik’s face that makes Taekwoon let out a deep sigh and say:

“I just… I just like you a lot, Wonshik.”

Taekwoon’s words ring inside Wonshik’s mind, replaying again and again.

Taekwoon likes him?

The same Taekwoon who’s right in front of him? Pretty and soft and round and so very much perfect?

It can’t be real. Especially when there’s the fear, and the future, and all the things they never spoke about.

Things are never easy like that…

“I - ” he starts, try to, but the person who’s shaking now isn’t Taekwoon. “I like you too, and I really mean it. But.”

Wonshik pauses, his heart dropping, sinking.

It’s the anxiety and fear. The unknown.

“But what, Wonshik?”

Taekwoon takes one step forward, raising his arms to touch Wonshik. He never does, though.

Maybe out of respect, or perhaps out of concern.

But seeing Taekwoon so dejected, with no light whatsoever showing on his face, makes Wonshik swear to himself he would never do this to Taekwoon ever again, or, at least, he would try to avoid it.

Wonshik gives Taekwoon the only thing he could ever give: his honesty, his heart.

“I don’t want to be left alone anymore, Taekwoon,” he starts. “It’s not about the place _where_ you are or _what_ you do, it’s not about traveling. It’s not any of those things. It’s… I just want to be there with you, not necessarily physical. Just. I just want to know where I can find you when you go.”

Taekwoon looks at him without a smile, but his eyes shine with a light that could only be called joy.

“I’m easy to find, Wonshik,” he says. “Always were, always will. You know that.”

Wonshik blinks, processing what he had just heard. Then, he proceeds to analyze Taekwoon, the way his lips form a small pout, his eyes, looking so dreamy and yet… Taekwoon may be easy to find, but he’s not an easy man, much like Wonshik.

That’s not a bad thing, though.

And maybe it wasn’t the answer Wonshik was expecting, as it often happened with Taekwoon. It doesn’t mean he didn’t understand their meaning.

With some kind of delight taking over him, Wonshik closes their distance and takes Taekwoon’s hands, feeling the familiar shake. They’re cold and clammy, and maybe Wonshik loves all of those things. However, he needs to express more than what holding hands can show. So, it doesn’t take any effort to hold Taekwoon’s face close to his and to do the unthinkable.

He kisses Taekwoon, light and soft and chaste, tasting mint, feeling the smoothness of skin.

And it would be alright to leave it at that; Wonshik would be such a happy man with only that single kiss to be always remembered, always kept.

But Taekwoon, always ahead, always doing way too much for both of them, gasps and tries to deepen the kiss. Wonshik doesn’t let him, though, he still needs to say one more thing. With his lips close to Taekwoon’s, he says:

“If you’re easy to find, then I was always here, waiting for you.”

Taekwoon chuckles, his cheeks tinted red, his eyes shining.

“Were you?”

He nods, kissing Taekwoon again and then resting his forehead to the other’s, staring at Taekwoon’s eyes.

“Yeah, I think I was. Always will be.”

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

And he does. He kisses Taekwoon with all the intent to make it memorable and meaningful.

◈

Hongbin is being difficult again, which makes Wonshik groan.

“What is taking you so long?” He cries out from the doorway, holding his apartment keys. “You have what, three pairs of white shirts?”

“Excuse me?”

Hongbin appears in the hallway, looking surprisingly good for a man who plays videogames half of his waking time. He’s wearing skinny black jeans and a black t-shirt, but his hair is styled up, and it seems wrong. Good, but wrong.

Wonshik whistles.

“Wow, I think I never saw you without sweatpants before.”

“Can you shut up for once, please?”

“We’re fucking late, Hongbin. Because _you_ decided to finally be human and dress up.”

It’s not actual arguing, it’s just normal, friendly bickering, hence why Hongbin smiles and pinches Wonshik’s sides.

“Who said I’m human?”

“Fair point, are you ready? Taekwoon’s gonna kill me for real this time.”

As if on cue, his phone starts ringing. Wonshik decides to not even look at it.

“Yeah yeah, I think I am,” Hongbin replies, taking one last look at the mirror and stepping out of the apartment, following Wonshik. “I’m sorry man, I’m just a little nervous.”

They take the stairs instead of the lift, because late they are. Soon they are out in the streets, and the summer heat hits them with force, even though the night already settled in. A calm breeze passes by – and people and cars and everything the big city holds. Wonshik grimaces.

“I’m also very nervous,” he finally confesses to Hongbin.

They stop at a traffic light, waiting for all the cars to pass by. The city is burning with movement, and so it’s Wonshik’s thoughts.

When they start walking again, Hongbin replies: “But you know them, right? Taekwoon’s friends, coworkers, whatever. You’ve seen them, they’re your friends too, so why are _you_ nervous?”

Wonshik speeds up, wanting to get to the bar as fast as possible.

“Why do you think I invited you, you moron?”

Hongbin chuckles at that.

“I can think of a variety of answers, but tell me, oh, my dear best friend.”

Wonshik clicks his tongue, observing the entrance door of the chosen bar. It’s a neat place that is located in between Taekwoon’s and Wonshik’s apartment, cozy but crowded. Taekwoon loves it.

He observes the crowd of people at the entrance door, grimacing a little, but soon he spots the familiar faces sitting at a table outside.

Taekwoon is there – obviously, with his mint cigarettes and side hugging one of his “boys.” It must be Sanghyuk if Wonshik is not mistaken. He had probably drunk enough for the night, but Wonshik doesn’t mind, never did.

His heart beats fast.

“Emotional support,” he belatedly answers Hongbin, taking one step ahead towards their table.

The noises and the confusion of the trendy bar surround him, but Hongbin is right beside him, giving him, somewhat, courage.

He’s not doing anything reckless tonight, he’s not going to ask for Taekwoon’s hand, because it’s not the place nor time for it.

But he wants to propose something, an idea. Later on, very late into the night, at the moment where Taekwoon would probably be in Wonshik’s bed, asking for very filthy things... Well, maybe not _that_ moment either. But somewhere into the night, Wonshik wants to ask Taekwoon about home, about the future, about love and family.

It happens very unexpectedly, when everyone is taking their leave. Hongbin leaves with one of Taekwoon’s friends, and that should be a surprise if it weren’t for Wonshik’s nervousness.

Taekwoon feels it, the years together made him sensitive to Wonshik’s emotions like that.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna go too?”

Does he?

In answer, he gulps down Taekwoon’s drink, making the other pout.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you know.”

“Sorry, I needed something strong.”

Taekwoon bites his lips, worry crossing his features.

“Tell me.”

And it’s the wrong place and the wrong time, as it often is with them.

Maybe they thrive in the unusual, the un-romantic romantic stuff. Maybe they thrive because that’s what life wants for them.

Maybe it’s all them.

“I was thinking about us, about home…”

Taekwoon hums, approaching, touching his lips slightly to Wonshik’s, they taste like smoke and gin and _Taekwoon_. He continues:

“And I remembered how we live so close and how my rental agreement is ending this month and –”

Wonshik feels Taekwoon smiling.

“Do you wanna…?”

“Yes? Maybe?” He answers, smiling too, kissing Taekwoon’s cheek. “If you want.”

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow can't believe I finished this?!???  
this was my first time posting a work that wasn't finished, and let me tell you, I don't know if I will do it again lmao I'm just glad I managed, honestly. 
> 
> anyways! hope you liked the end! It wasn't what I was planning at the beginning but I'm very happy. It's sappy, I love sappy... (you can blame it on my gf, she makes me the sappiest)
> 
> just like Taekwoon, I'm easy to find, too:
> 
> @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)

**Author's Note:**

> ━━☆⌒*. [twitter](https://twitter.com/tttarkus)


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